


Home

by justjessiehere



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: I don't know how to tag yet, M/M, found home, i am so sorry yall, soft men being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22824631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justjessiehere/pseuds/justjessiehere
Summary: home for Geralt isn't a place... it's a person.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 147





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> just a warning-- I've only seen the show on Netflix, not read the books or played the games yet!  
> all the same, I hope you enjoy!

Geralt has never had a home, not really.

He must have had one as a boy, but time claimed those memories as her own many, many years ago.

Kaer Mohren _definitely_ hadn’t been a home. It was built on blood and sweat, tears and pain - so _much_ pain and a terror unlike any Geralt had ever known existed. Flames, ice, and acid alike had licked through his veins as he underwent the Trials. They remade his flesh, bones, mind _-self_. Geralt and the few survivors had stumbled from the forge newly minted, finely honed, otherworldly weapons - ready to take on (take _down_ ) anything. 

And–

And Geralt is fine with that. Mostly. Witchers were created to hunt monsters and earn coin, maybe even a reputation in the process… rinse repeat, rinse repeat. Never stop, never settle unless it was six feet under. He’d made what peace he could with that sad fact and moved on.

Until he met a certain lively bard dressed in silks like some fancy bird of paradise. Said bard attached himself to Geralt like a barnacle to a ship and that was that. 

Jaskier with his never-ending chatter and movement almost drove Geralt mad those first weeks.

It’d made Geralt entertain the idea of knocking the bard out cold with his own lute and leaving him in a ditch in the beginning but… there was something about Jaskier that made up for the infuriating bits. Something warm and insistent that burrowed it’s way into Geralt’s chest and stayed tucked there, pulsing in time with his heart.

Jaskier’s ability to charm coin from the tavern crowds certainly helps, as do his quicksilver tongue when conversations stray toward unpleasantness when negotiating contracts. 

But this is different than mere appreciation, than thankfulness. Something more, _deeper_. 

At first, Geralt thinks it’s because Jaskier doesn’t reek of fear or nerves when around him. People usually let off monstrously vile scents (Geralt would know) that cling to the back of his throat for hours after leaving them behind, but Jaskier… he smells like orange blossoms and woodsmoke, ink and resin. Not even a whisper of the stench that usually makes Geralt edgy, makes him irritable. 

It puts him at ease. 

It could be the way that the same pair of hands that work the lute so masterfully, that make it sing so beautifully, are also capable of gently sewing Geralt together after awry hunts. Jaskier refuses to rush, even as Geralt growls through clenched teeth that whatever he does it’ll still sting, to _get on with it already_. Jaskier just maintains his tutting and sniping, tells Geralt that _this requires patience, you menace_ , not that it’s something _he_ would understand.

Maybe it’s Jaskier practically shoving Geralt in the tub and washing his hair after, running careful fingers through tangles, being sure not to tug, knocking out bits of dried blood and chunks of gore. Replacing chaos with quiet and peace, ~~blessed silence ~~.~~~~

It’s just… all the little things. 

A hand between Geralt’s shoulderblades in social situations because Jaskier knows they make Geralt miserable. 

Elbow nudges, tender words, soft gazes, they turn into so much _more _until--__

__

__Until it’s this and everything else imaginable from the bard that wears his heart on his sleeve, that gives with no expectation for anything back, that loves as fiercely as Geralt fights.__

Everything, all at once, combined with the way Jaskier holds the Witcher: cradles Geralt against his chest like he’s something _precious _, like he’s deserving of love when so many have written him off as an unfeeling monster, something to run from, to be _feared_. __

__That's when Geralt realizes that maybe home isn’t a place, but a person._ _

__

__

__Someone who sees you, who _knows_ you inside out and accepts it all; every gaping wound and aching bruise and marred bit that they come across._ _

____

Everything about you with no regrets- just acceptance, love, comfort, safety-- 

_home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to say thank you for taking the time to read my first-ever contribution to the fandom! It means a lot to me. <3  
> If you'd like to come say hello, I'm justjessiehere on tumblr too. (Tumblr is where I originally posted this, if it looks familiar!)  
> Feel free to leave prompts in my inbox or to just drop by to talk!


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